


A Fleeting Thought?

by drowninyourmemory



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, One-Shot, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Post-Avengers, Pre-Iron Man 3, based on a Twitter solo, one-sided Stony, song lyrics included
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 11:34:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drowninyourmemory/pseuds/drowninyourmemory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony's busy at work in his lab, as is the norm after New York happened. When a strange song that he can't place gets stuck in his head, he's surprised by the person who comes to mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fleeting Thought?

**Author's Note:**

> This really doesn't have much of a plot. I wrote it because the solo I did on Twitter played out so vividly in my head that I decided to write a ficlet for it. So, here you go! Feedback is always good.

"I have successfully privatized world peace."

Oh, how wrong he had been.

Tony couldn't remember when the last time he left his lab for longer than the time necessary to grab some food was, let alone left his floor to see how the others were managing since New York. He couldn't remember what a peaceful silence sounded like, what restful sleep felt like. Sleep not riddled with horrible nightmares. Silence that wasn't deafening. Oh, the silence he experienced in that wormhole had certainly stuck with him, so he remembered that well. He also remembered all of the fear that came along with it.

Not that Tony Stark was a man who would admit he was afraid of anything.

That's why he was busy tinkering with Mark 39 (or was it 40 now?) in his lab. It was what he could do. He was a mechanic; he built things, made old machines better. Instead of letting himself have a meltdown over what happened (Tony Stark did not have meltdowns), he continued working on the one thing he knew would help. Maybe he could create a new weapon that he could conceal on one of his suits that's specifically designed for extraterrestrial combat. Or maybe he could design a complete army of suits that were all meant to do just that.

It was these thoughts that kept him in a self-imposed isolation. He saw things in that wormhole. He saw what they were up against, not just what came out of the hole in space and destroyed over half of New York. He knew things, knew they were outnumbered, outgunned. Outmatched.

He couldn't have that.

Pepper didn't understand. She didn't see what he'd seen. She only saw what was on the news. She couldn't possibly imagine what he'd gone through while away, so to accuse him of caring more about his suits than he did her was completely out of line. He wanted to tell her that, but really, what was the point? She wasn't going to understand. All she saw was him working in his lab day and night and pointedly ignoring those who cared about him, i.e. her. And hey, he wasn't ignoring her. He was focused! Honest!

Regardless, she left shortly after New York, when the nightmares got so bad that he called his suit in his sleep for the first time. Tony was alone.

Perhaps it was better that way.

One day, Tony was working on the mask of one of his almost completed suits, a melody stuck in his head from who-knows-where. JARVIS had selected a new soundtrack for him to listen to (Bon Jovi was good, but not really his thing), but this jingle playing between his ears as though he were listening to it and not "Livin' On A Prayer" was completely different.

First, he started to hum. Quietly and to himself, hoping that in doing so, the damned tune would get out of his head. But then he began to murmur words -- his awkward attempt at singing something that wasn't his usual style.

"It's always times like these when I think of you and I wonder if you ever think of me."

He didn't realise what he was saying, really. He was just repeating the words that sounded good in his mind. Probably the lyrics to this song, now that he thought of it.

"'Cos everything's so wrong and I don't belong living in your precious memory."

...Oh. Now he was starting to pay attention, and a face began to appear in his mind. The corners of his lips twitched as he fought back a smile.

"I need you. And I miss you.  
And now I wonder..."

Wait. Tony stopped short, the mask falling out of his hands and landing on the table with a loud crash. He realised with a sudden jolt that although he had initially been thinking of Pepper, she wasn't at all who he was thinking of now. The face in his mind wasn't even female.

...What?

"I don't wanna let you know I drown in your memory."

He picked up the mask again and looked curiously at it, now torn between working on this and trying to figure out why on earth he had blond hair and striking blue eyes in his mind. Or, a better question -- why did he feel like he did, in fact, miss him?

Miss Rogers? Hardly.

"I don't wanna let this go. I don't."

He absentmindedly dusted off the mask with his fingers, that faint smile that he was trying so hard to fight showing itself just a little bit. Was it so bad to miss a friend? No. No, it wasn't.

At least it wouldn't be if that was all he was thinking of. Oh God.

"What the hell am I doing," he muttered to himself, picking up his work helmet and quickly putting it on. He lowered the vision guard over his face and sighed.

"Focus, Tony."

And by "focus", he meant on the suit. Not on that charming smile, or those endearing looks of confusion when a modern phrase was spoken, or the way his ass looked in his uniform.

Especially not that last one.


End file.
